


Falling Into Desperation

by ReginaExMachina



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: #OQAngstFest, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-26 00:45:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15652308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReginaExMachina/pseuds/ReginaExMachina
Summary: For OQ Angst Fest.I sobbed into your chest, grasping you hard, begging you, kneeling before you like the broken queen I was born to be.Prompts # 5, 10, 11, 18, 22, 32, 50





	Falling Into Desperation

          I’m falling into desperation. I feel the waves of frustration turn to nausea and stomach pains, the butterflies I once felt there have vacated and migrated to my heart, making it beat faster and it makes me dizzy. The beat flutters, so sometimes I have to stop and get a grip of myself.

“Please don’t leave me,” I begged you that night, but you didn’t listen.

You made me a thief. I steal smiles now, when I happen to see you from a distance, and I keep them for myself, so I will have one each day when I undoubtedly,  _ must _ , face the music, that which plays to the rhythm of my choices.

I have found myself doubting my own knowledge, just last night I couldn’t remember the difference in taste between tomato and broccoli, so I cut up both but used neither. I am a woman of external consequence, an absolute miracle to functionality. I am full of everything, and nothing, like washed and put through a colander, leaving behind pieces of a broken mind. Pieces that are so severed that they no longer fit together. 

But you can take clay and fill in the blanks of a broken vase with a bit of hot glue, and that is why I am functional. I filled in the blanks with knowledge -which now seems to escape me- and put it together with a routine. 

“What’s the point anymore, Regina?” You asked, and your eyes were so lackluster, so devoid of their kind, soft sparkle, the one that made me come to  _ need _ you.

I could let go. I could crumble under the rough weather, and the corrosion of these pieces could be absolute, and the clay could easily turn to mud. 

“You promised you wouldn’t, Robin, you promise you wouldn’t leave me,” I sobbed into your chest, grasping you hard, begging you, kneeling before you like the broken queen I was born to be.

I don’t know why I get up every day. No, I do know why, what I don’t know is  _ how _ . I’m standing here alone now, forgetting to do things that should come natural, like breathing, as I relive the happy moments when you and I use to lay in bed and read side by side. You would read important pieces, and I would read poetry, hoping to one day find the right words in a book that could perfectly describe what I felt for you. 

“I said I love you, and I mean it, but…” You said, “I think things have just changed.”

Memories last forever, and, no one tells you that every time you remember them, they change a bit, because our minds put things in them that weren’t there, and that’s why sometimes what I remember as the happiest days of my life, you seem to remember as your most horrible nightmares. There is no truth in either of those statements. In reality, we were probably somewhere in the middle, in a decent state of exhilaration and normalcy. 

None of which matters now, because what happened in the physical plane rippled waves to our states of consciousness, and we lost solid ground.

“You said it was forever, and I  _ believed  _ you!” I screamed, with all the hatred I could muster, but there was none, just broken sobs, from a broken woman. “You know why? Because I  _ trusted  _ you!”

And you could have said anything to me in that moment, and maybe it would have kept on breaking me, breaking me until I was nothing, but when you lowered sad eyes to the floor, turned your back and walked away, out of my life, that,  _ that  _ was what crushed me.

You sailed away, and I find myself still here, wetting the sand to try and put together what the waves of anger washed away. 

The silence echoes, and sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night because I think I hear the window opening, like it used to before we could tell anyone about us, when you’d sneak into my bedroom in the middle of the night and I’d wake up to your lips on mine.

Sometimes I think I hear the door, like when you’d come home from patrolling the woods, protecting us, protecting your family, our boys, protecting  _ me _ . 

Sometimes I think I hear your voice, that sound that soothed every storm in my soul when you whispered my name so sweetly.

I’m falling into desperation, and it’s an even harsher drop than falling in love.


End file.
